


The Unconscious

by kathryne



Series: Kiss and Cry [4]
Category: Grace and Frankie (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 15:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathryne/pseuds/kathryne
Summary: Five hundred words to the prompt 'A tipsy kiss.'  Follows 'The Waiting.'





	The Unconscious

**Author's Note:**

> [bonus background music](https://youtu.be/2QiVMPP0rHY?t=2m1s)

"Bye, Geno! Don't forget to send me photos from the llama farm," Frankie calls, waving as the car pulls out of their driveway. "Gosh, my last Uber with Geno," she marvels, digging in her enormous handbag. Grace sighs behind her, impatient, and Frankie pulls out her keys. She's only two drinks in, give or take a couple of shots – one of her Del Taco friends invented them just for her goodbye party, said they would bring swift travels and safe arrivals, so of course she couldn't say no – but she fumbles anyway, can't get the key to line up with the hole.

"Don't scratch the – give it here," Grace says after a couple attempts. She bumps heavily into Frankie, tugging the keys from her hand, and jabs at the lock. Her first try fails too, and Frankie snorts under her breath. Grace glares at her, then at the key. "Oh, for Christ's sake." She sorts through the jangling bundle and waves it in front of Frankie's face. "Wrong key, Frankie. You're not gone _yet_." This time the door opens, and Grace storms inside. She tosses the keys on the table, followed by her purse, and leans over, hands on the back of the nearest chair, taking deep breaths.

"Grace?" Frankie steps closer. She raises a hand, nearly rests it on Grace's back, then lets it drop. "You okay?" She didn't keep an eye on Grace's drinking tonight, and maybe she should've.

"Just fine." Grace turns, plastering the fakest smile Frankie's ever seen on her face – and Frankie's seen some pretty damn fake smiles, most of them Grace's. After three years, she'd almost forgotten what they looked like. Seeing one again is a blow; she feels herself readying for a fight. "Shouldn't you head off to bed?" Grace says, swaying just a little. "After all, you have such a big day tomorrow. You don't want to be tired." Her voice is sharp even if her words are gentle.

"Grace," Frankie says again. She doesn't move, afraid Grace will bolt like she's been doing all week, but reaches out anyway. "You said it, I'm not gone yet. Don't treat me like I am."

"Oh, Frankie." Grace's façade cracks at that and she raises a hand to her mouth. "Don't you know it's easier this way?" She takes a step forward – towards Frankie, towards the stairs – and her heel skids. Her ankle turns under her. She crumples. Frankie catches her.

"Careful!" Frankie yelps. She clutches Grace tightly, feeling the panicked flutter of her heart. This is the closest they've been in days, ever since they ran into each other in the middle of the night, and Frankie wants to savour it. She mirrors Grace's action that night and presses an impulsive kiss to her cheek. She was shocked, then, delighted at the unexpected intimacy; Grace just jerks away. "You have to take care of yourself," Frankie says helplessly.

"Yeah?" Grace straightens her blazer. "Don't worry. I'll get used to doing it alone again."


End file.
